Seeds of the Forbidden: Hollow Forest
by Fallynleaf
Summary: Pre-series, set in the old forest before Bluestar's time. Forbidden acts threaten to weaken the clans until they inadvertently bring about the end of their home. Two will be born to hate...
1. Allegiances

_Beware: this story is riddled with social taboos and the darker side of human and animal nature alike._

**Summary:** Pre-series, set in the old forest before Bluestar's time. Forbidden acts threaten to weaken the clans until they inadvertently bring about the end of their home. _Two will be born to hate..._

Before the old forest is threatened and destroyed, there were prophesies received that predicted the horrors to come. This story details the events following the first prophesy and the cats who lived caught in its snare.

Willowkit, a ThunderClan kit, is born just before her world is thrown into shadow, already having to cope with her mother's irrational scorn and a burning need to prove her equality. Then, when a lost and malnourished kit arrives at ThunderClan thirsting to avenge the death of a loved one, Willowkit's life begins its slow spiral downwards into a pit of despair and hate. The clans are faced with an enemy that lives both within and out.

**Rating: **'_T'_ for the theme: taboos, which includes: same-sex love, polygamy, incest, serial murders, abortion, and gore, among others._ Not_ sexually explicit.

**Disclaimer:** Any content in this story belongs to either Erin Hunter or myself. The world in which it is set is theirs, all else: mine. I prefer that the names of my characters are not used, though I am aware that I cannot claim them for my use alone.

**Further information:** I fully intend for this to reach a full-length Warriors novel size. It will be serialized weekly, with each new chapter published hopefully by Sunday night. I cannot guarantee that I will always be able to balance updating this with my schooling, though I will make an effort to. This whole story is already planned out with two sequential stories following it.

**Note:** Please correct me if you spot any inconsistencies, errors, or anything that contradicts canon information. I am very willing to tweak this until it reaches the closest to perfection possible. I have hopefully managed to create genetically possible cats whose coloring and names fit their clans, but if there are any errors in that then please point them out. Critique is also very much appreciated. The writing style of this will be mine, not the Erins'.

This page will be updated as needed, so don't be surprised.

* * *

_Two will be born to hate,  
one to love,  
and from their union  
will rise the seeds of the end_

**Allegiances** (at the beginning):

**-T H U N D E R C L A N**

Leader–

**Foxstar –** Orange tabby tom with a white-tipped tail and feet, has yellow eyes

Deputy–

**Dawnheart –** Pale tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow eyes

Medicine Cat–

**Sedgeberry – **Long-haired dark grey tabby tom with green eyes

_(Apprentice, _**Larkpaw –** Ginger and brown tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with blue eyes)

Warriors– _(Toms and she-cats without kits)_

**Berryshrew –** Light brown tom with yellow eyes

**Elmfur –** Ginger tom with white feet and yellow eyes

**Grasstail –** Golden brown tom with a kinked tail and amber eyes

**Rowanwhisker –** Orange tabby tom with amber eyes

**Badgerstep –** Large, long-haired black she-cat with a white chest and yellow eyes

**Dustflower –** Long-haired grey she-cat with green eyes

**Goldeneye** – Golden tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Apprentices– _(More than six moons old, in training to become warriors)_

**Fawnpaw –** Light brown she-cat with a darker face, legs and tail, has green eyes

Queens– _(She-cats expecting or nursing kits)_

**Nettlefang –** Ginger she-cat with dark spots and yellow eyes

**Morninglight –** Pale she-cat with a light grey and cream dappled coat, has a white face, legs, chest and tail and blue eyes, mother of Rowanwhisker's kits: **Brightkit **(Cream tabby she-cat with green eyes), **Wrenkit** (Long-haired dark brown tabby tom with green eyes), **Mosskit** (Dark grey long-haired she-cat with yellow-green eyes), and **Willowkit** (Tortoiseshell she-cat with white on her legs, neck, belly and on the bottom half of her face just reaching her blue eyes)

Elders– _(Former warriors and queens, now retired)_

**Brokentooth – **Dark brown tabby tom with a broken tooth and yellow eyes

**Spottednose – **Small brown she-cat with a spotted pelt and brown eyes

**-R I V E R C L A N**

Leader–

**Reedstar –** Tall, dark brown tabby tom with green eyes

Deputy–

**Raintail –** Grey tom with a white tail and back, has green eyes

Medicine Cat– None

Warriors–

**Greycloud –** Fluffy long-haired light grey tom with yellow eyes

**Frostheart –** White she-cat with blue eyes

**Mudstripe –** Striped brown tom with green eyes

**Silverwing –** White she-cat with light grey feet and two patches of color on her back, has blue eyes

Apprentices–

**Swiftpaw –** Dark grey tabby tom with green eyes

Queens–

**Lilyfur –** Dappled ginger and grey she-cat with a white face and blue eyes, mother of **Minnowkit** (Small grey spotted she-cat with dark green eyes)

Elders–

**Pebbletail –** Brown tabby tom with mottled fur and a striped tail, has yellow eyes

**-S H A D O W C L A N**

Leader–

**Thornstar –** Light brown tabby tom with yellow eyes

Deputy–

**Marshfoot –** Dark brown tom with one white paw and copper eyes

Medicine Cat–

**Hazelnose –** Brown long-haired she-cat with a dark face and yellow eyes

Warriors–

**Oakshade –** Very dark striped brown tom with green eyes

**Russetclaw –** Dark ginger tom with yellow eyes

**-W I N D C L A N**

Leader–

**Dovestar –** Long-haired white she-cat with one blue eye and one brown

Deputy–

**Swanfeather –** White she-cat with striped grey legs and blue eyes

Medicine Cat–

**Ashpetal –** Cream and grey dappled she-cat with yellow eyes

Warriors–

**Spiderwhisker –** Wiry black she-cat with long whiskers

**Thistletail –** Light brown tom with a bushy white-tipped tail and green eyes

Elders–

**Swalloweye –** Dark brown tabby tom with a single yellow eye

**-C A T S ~O U T S I D E ~ O F ~ C L A N S**

**Blazehollow –** Orange tabby she-cat with amber eyes, formerly of ThunderClan

**Riverfall –** Long-haired dark grey tabby she-cat with a white streak across her face, has one blue eye and one green, deaf in one ear, a rogue

**Storm –** Tortoiseshell tomcat with yellow-green eyes, once Stormwhisper of ThunderClan

**Nightingale –** Black she-cat with amber eyes and a melodious voice, a rogue

**Flood** **–** Light grey tabby tomcat with deep green eyes, a rogue

**Rose** **– **Cream she-cat

**Prophet – **Golden brown tom with white feet

**Grouse – **Brown tabby tom, a kittypet


	2. Prologue

**Warriors: Seeds of the Forbidden: Hollow Forest**

_Prologue_

_-  
_

_Droplets struck dense foliage, _glancing off and sending the glossy leaves bouncing back into shape. Two cats, not much more than silhouettes against the moonless night, visibly drooped under the weight of the deluge.

Doubt shone in the eyes of one cat, revealed in her weary, lowered head and in the tangles of her matted fur. She raised her head briefly to meet the eyes of her companion, then lowered it again and angled her body away. The soft rasp of a tongue against her ear did little to give her hope.

"Don't listen to those star-chasers, they live up there and we live down here." The other cat motioned to the sky and to the earth with a flick of a tail.

The smaller, grey-pelted cat stared blankly at the sudden abandonment of their spiritual ancestors and allowed the other to lead her into the shadow and refuge of a fallen tree. "What if he was right and this is not the path I was meant to take?" she shook to rid her fur of the rain. "What if _this_ will be the beginning of the end?"

"This is not hate. It is the same as what the sparrow sings, what cat and fox both see. This is love, no matter if they refuse to consider it as such." Obvious pride lifted the ginger-pelted cat's paws and she circled around the other cat, pressing her head underneath that of her mate's to lift the downcast eyes upwards and into her own amber ones. "How could this not be the path you were meant to walk?"

The cat with the grey pelt closed her eyes and stood in a silent vigil for all that had come to pass from the very steps she had chosen willingly and now walked in regret. "_Two will be born to hate, one to love, and from their union will rise the seeds of the end_." Her eyes snapped open, as black as darkness itself to draw in the most light in the depth of night. "Isn't that what he said of the prophecy?" she winced and turned aside. "The prophecy received on the night before your birth."

"There were only two kits, not three. It couldn't have referred to me. My parents loved each other enough to die to save their mate. And they did, one after the other." The amber eyes were fierce and determined. "Come, we must continue or we will not reach it by morning."

Their two shadows intertwined briefly and then they parted and emerged into the rain to journey on, paws already heavy with fatigue. They clung together and struggled on in the storm, very aware of their dampened senses.

"Murderer and traitor, cat born of hate, StarClan will not let you live to kill again!" a voice spat. Both cats turned to face it, watching in horror as a large group of cats advanced with hackles raised and claws glimmering in the starlight. The grey-pelted cat's eyes widened and focused in fear on her mate. The downpour had drowned the scent of these cats and now they had been caught unaware, malnourished, and completely defenseless.

"Run! You cannot get hurt! I will come as soon as I can!" the ginger cat hissed to her. Her unsheathed claws scraped rock and she yowled in fury, fear scent mingling with that of her mate.

Teeth and claw readied to spill blood, the cats attacked as a single desperate enemy, their roars and screeching surrounding and overwhelming all other senses. The smaller cat felt the battle erupt around her, the cats descending on her mate as she had once seen a mob of crows take down an owl. She was ignored in the pursuit of their thirst for a murderer's blood, and she managed to use the cover of the darkness and rain to escape.

Despair clouded her gaze as she sprinted away with as much haste as her paws could manage, though her heart wanted only to stay. "StarClan, give me strength!" she gasped, praying despite her mate's mistrust of the starry warriors. There was no hope for her other than what they allowed. Asking for the safety of the other cat would only bring her misfortune, as she had completely lost her faith after the disaster they had bestowed on her.

The cats did not give chase, having their wanted prey already cornered and helpless, and the grey-pelted cat could only continue on, hungry, afraid, and weakened. There was neither time nor opportunity to catch prey.

When she at last reached the only place she could go where her mate would be able to find her, she collapsed, staring into the devouring darkness of a cave entrance. Her hope lay shredded around her, sorrow in her eyes and in the droop of her body.

A figure revealed its presence, a mere shadow in the night, and she felt its eyes on her limp form, calculating her innocence and damage. On silent pads it approached and crouched, waiting, a few fox-lengths away, its unblinking eyes upon her as she swiveled her head to stare wide-eyed and helpless.

She knew she had to speak, had to request of this cat something that she needed to get to save her mate's life, but she was restrained by the force of her fear, and found her body too listless to move. She gathered all of her energy and will and staggered upright, rain pounding all around her and echoing within.

"I've come to bear your kits."

* * *

**Note: **The first chapter should be uploaded next Sunday.


	3. Chapter 1

_**Warriors: Seeds of the Forbidden: Hollow Forest**_

_Chapter 1_

_**-  
**_

_The world was a blur of darkness and light, heat and cold._ Scents and sounds pressed around Willowkit and threatened to overwhelm her fragile senses. She huddled into the deepest shadow, trying to reclaim the dark warmth of a familiar place just on the edge of her memory, wanting only to be back in a state of rest.

Everything was wrong: the terrible yowls and the keening of cats in pain, the heavy, acrid odor masking nearly all others, and the absent heat of the body that carried the milk scent.

"Mother!" Willowkit opened her jaws to a soundless mew, releasing only a rush of breath when she tried to wail. Her sealed eyes were leaking fluid and her nose was dripping, but there was no soft rasp of a tongue to clean her. The world was a terrifying place, despite her only having entered it a few days before. The light she could see through her eyelids wavered and danced with flickering shadows, her ears catching the hissing and fury in the mews of many, many cats as fear-scent mingling with the strong odor of pain flooded into her nose and gaping jaws.

The fearful noises and smells were causing Willowkit to instinctively shrink away, her wobbly legs barely allowing a stumble. All that she could comprehend was an absence of the single constant thing in her life: her mother; and a hollow loneliness. She needed her mother. Angling her face toward the brightest light, she clumsily moved in that direction, searching for her in desperation.

Nothing barred her way, not even the other cat whose presence often prevented her from straying. Suddenly, there was light everywhere, more than she had ever experienced, and a new sensation of warmth pressed on her back.

"A kit!" Cried a cat only a few tail-lengths away from Willowkit. It was the loudest noise she had ever heard and she frantically tried to return to the relief of the darkness, but it was no longer at her back.

"Mother!" she called, quivering in terror.

"Is ThunderClan so short on warriors it needs to let its kits join in battle as well?" this mew came from her right so Willowkit turned to face it, fearing the deep feeling of malevolence and threat it sent to her. She could understand none of the words being said, only the feeling behind them.

"Get back, Spiderwhisker, she simply looks lost. We shouldn't be fighting while-" he yelped, and Willowkit felt a slight disturbance in the air as the movement of a falling cat brought a breeze through her fur. The voice started again, harsher now. "Stop! There's a lost kit who you almost just caused me to crush!"

"A kit- Oh… Where's her mother?" The tension and angry yowls had ceased, and Willowkit felt the gaze of many eyes upon her. Somehow, she seemed to have brought an end to whatever had made her afraid.

"My kits! Where are my kits!"

Willowkit scrambled with all of her power over to the voice, excited mews escaping as recognition instantly seized her.

"Mother! Mother!" she purred.

"My poor kits are missing!" wailed the queen, despite Willowkit's appearance at her side.

Willowkit sensed the worry and dread in the voice and quieted, unsure of what to do. She had thought that upon reaching her mother everything would be fine, but something was still wrong. Whispers came at her from all directions, and there was no soothing intention behind them.

"We cannot battle with missing kits, whether of our clan or not. We'll have to return to our camp."

"Where could they be if that one isn't hers?"

She parted her jaws and mewed again, hunger clawing at her belly. The weight of many pairs of eyes fell upon her and she quailed and buried herself in her mother's warm fur, knowing that wailing would do her no good.

"Where are my kits!"

Willowkit burrowed further, searching for the strong milk scent, but there was no answering movement and her need could not be fulfilled.

"This will not be the last of WindClan. Don't keep a tight hold on your kits, ThunderClan, because when we come back you'll need them to stop another battle." Snarled a she-cat as she distanced herself from the others, the soft padding of many feet rustling after her. Her voice floated away on the wind and Willowkit felt the tension at last slowly begin to dissipate. Helpless, she gave a weak mew and wiggled under her mother, lapping at the warm milk as the she-cat ignored her and continued to cry after her missing kits.

A screech broke the solemn peace among the cats, causing even Willowkit's mother to briefly stifle her wails before resuming them again after recovering from surprise. Two pelts brushed Willowkit as their owners swept by, moving in the direction of the sound. She drew, if possible, even closer to her mother.

"I have them, the kits, but-" the owner of the voice hissed, and Willowkit could hear the pain in her words. "-he clawed me hard, and I think that-" the soft thud of a body was audible, and a powerful stench wafted over, reeking of pain and distress.

"Find Sedgeberry, her blood is everywhere!"

"How can she survive with that wound?"

The lamenting form against Willowkit stiffened and moved away, leaving Willowkit more alone than before. This time her mother had left her willingly and without care. Her mewling did nothing but bring an unknown cat over to her side, and a tongue rasped gently against her fur.

"Where are they?"Her mother raised the volume of her mew, the intensity of her worry sending Willowkit back into fear, despite the other cat's attempt at comforting her. "_Where are my kits?_"

More whispers, like the buzzing of flies in the den.

The cat at Willowkit's side shifted. "Morninglight, she cannot tell you anything if she is unconscious. We will search for them with a few uninjured warriors while the others rest and heal their wounds." Willowkit felt the she-cat's head turn away. "I have only scratches, Foxstar. I will organize a search patrol myself."

Tired and distressed, Willowkit curled tightly into a ball and fell asleep.

* * *

Willowkit did not move if not to lift her ears. Something was in a delicate balance, though she didn't know what, and somehow even in the safety of the den she knew that she needed to stay still. She was not alone now, though her mother's warmth next to her had long since grown cold and stale. The other queen slept, exhausted, somewhere at the other side of the den, as Willowkit managed to determine from the sound of her gentle breathing.

Willowkit simply lay there and listened to the voices of the other cats.

One word that was repeated consistently throughout all of their conversations she learned to understand. _Battle_. It was what had happened the day before, with the yowling, the hate, and the pain. Battle was also loneliness and abandonment, as well as fear. This was necessary to understand, Willowkit dimly comprehended. Everything about it confused and disoriented her, but it was life.

A mention of her mother almost brought her to her unsteady feet, but she resisted and only listened warily. _Morninglight_. That was what she was called, and other than "Willowkit", her own name, the rest of the conversation fell uselessly upon her ears.

"How is Morninglight doing, Sedgeberry? Have you managed to keep her from disturbing Spottednose?"

"Yes, I convinced her to take some poppy seeds and now she is resting, however unwillingly."

"What about the kit, Willowkit? Is Nettlefang with her?"

"Yes. She should be fine."

Just about to fall asleep, Willowkit nearly missed hearing a yowl of surprise. Now aware, the movement of the other queen caught her ear and she felt the she-cat approach her. Together, they waited.

"We've found the kits hiding in the old badger set! They're unhurt, but starving and weak. They need milk." Called a tom, panting.

The high caterwauling of Willowkit's mother brought everyone's attention on her.

"My kits, oh, my kits!" her voice shot past Willowkit, who reached hesitantly toward her as she approached, then withdrew as she continued in the direction of the tom's voice. "They're alive, thank Starclan!"

The other queen grasped the scruff of Willowkit's neck in her teeth and lifted her away, and Willowkit saw the light of the den's entrance flicker with shadow, feeling the heat of other cats as they enter then left. Her mother came and instinctually Willowkit struggled free from Nettlefang's teeth and rubbed against Morninglight, squirming until she reached the milk. Three other bodies were pressed around her and all were enveloped within a mother's warmth.

"Morninglight. Spottednose is awake. Do you want me to ask her about the events surrounding the disappearance of your kits?"

Her hunger sated, Willowkit drowsily curled up to her mother and settled into her warm fur.

"No. I will go myself." The kits cried in protest as Morninglight stood and Willowkit heard her smoothing down her fur with a few swipes of her tongue. The light wavered and she had left the den, her soft scent lingering for a few brief moments before it started to became stale. Helplessly, all of the kits shared their warmth and fell into a peaceful rest, the other queen's body around them.

It didn't take Willowkit long to come awake and begin to mewl for milk, having had it stolen from her by her starving brothers and sisters. Her mother had returned, but she had separated herself and sat aside, talking in a low voice. Anger was in her voice and bitterly pungent in her scent.

"She who had the nerve to try and save _my_ kits as if _I_ were incapable of it myself! She should be exiled from such a horrendous abomination of the Code!" snarled Morninglight, her tail lashing against the ground and brushing dust into Willowkit's face, causing her to scrunch up her face in a sneeze. "They could have been, _were_, nearly slaughtered. All because of that mangy, rat-nosed, crowfood-eater of a cat! When she is fully healed, I might just have to tear out her throat with my claws."

"Morninglight, she will not regain the use of her back legs and her tail will never grow back. Those scars on her back where she was ravaged will be there always, both in her mind and on her body. She has already requested mine and Foxstar's permission to move to the elder's den after Sedgeberry permits her to leave the medicine cat's den… And still, _still_, you think that she has not paid enough for her mistake? WindClan had invaded our _camp_, for StarClan's sake! Who was to know that they would draw the line at harming kits?"

"Dawnheart, I don't want to hear you pity for me, Spottednose, or any cat. My kits were involved, and that gives me the right to hate whatever or whoever threatens them. Whether I act on my hate or not depends on my own decisions alone. Now go, leave me in peace to feed my kits."

"No. As long as there is the possibility of you hurting one of my clanmates, who are _my_ kits, I cannot leave you alone."

"Then, by the dirt of StarClan I hope you enjoy shaming me!"

Willowkit felt the rough edge of her mother's tongue drag harshly across her skin and she let out a small sound of pain. The other she-cat carried the scent of pity, and Willowkit stared at her through her closed eyes, feeling not the slightest bit uncomfortable at being watched while her mother cleaned and fed her. She could barely remember a time before this one when she had felt only love from all around her. With what thought she was capable of, she wondered longingly why emotion had to be so clouded, so deluded. Why couldn't there always be only love?

-

"Don't you want to see? The world is so boring with only a bit of light and shadow!" Brightkit exclaimed, leaping on top of Willowkit and pinning her to the ground.

"No, I don't." She mewed, rolling away from her sister's game. Her ears angled back in an attempt to resume listening to a conversation between two of her clanmates, but Brightkit kept distracting her, poking and prodding then disappearing our of Willowkit's range only to tackle her from behind.

"But you've kept them closed for half a moon now! Surely you must be at least slightly interested?" Mosskit's soft mew floated across from the den's other side. Withdrawn and quiet, she spent most of her time with their brother, Wrenkit, wondering about all of intricacies of being a warrior and play-fighting with him. They were easily the closest of the litter, bonded in a special way since birth. Willowkit almost envied them, but she was content with being alone.

Wondering if a friendship like that of her siblings would ever form with her, Willowkit considered Nettlefang's yet unborn kits. She could _feel _them as they quickened, their little beating hearts as they matched their mother's pace and brought involuntary purrs from the old queen. Nothing about it had ever seemed to her abnormal, it had simply been as it had for as long as her memory could stretch. There were going to be two of them: one tom and the other a she-cat.

"What names are you going to give them? I think the she-cat is going to have the same color pelt as you, though the tom seems to be darker." She asked.

Nettlefang's voice and scent prickled with curiosity. "What? Oh, I don't know yet, much less how many there will be or whether they're toms or she-cats."

Willowkit closed up. It wasn't an ability all cats had, so therefore she couldn't have it either. "It was just a guess…"

"Rather than opening your eyes and practicing being a warrior, you waste time guessing the gender and color of a queen's kits?" a voice scoffed from the corner. "I should have known that the outsider would be useless."

"Morninglight, just because Willowkit was born after the three others it doesn't make her an outsider any more than your other kits." Nettlefang put in before Willowkit could absorb the full implications of her mother's harsh words.

"And you, Nettlefang, should be aware that a mother has her secrets, things that can never be told." She whispered. "That one shouldn't have been born."

"Go to sleep, little one. Don't listen to her; she is still distressed by the disappearance of her kits." Soothed Nettlefang, curling her tail around Willowkit.

She settled down and opened her senses to listen to as much of clan life as she could, looking to be in a state of rest while her mother silently fed her brother and sisters. The rich scent of milk flooded her smell and it took much will to keep her away from despair, though she doubted anyone would notice. Already, she had aged beyond a kit.

Over the next few days, Willowkit discovered much about clan life. She learned, from an annoyed Fawnpaw, the many difficulties and exasperations of caring for the elders, from the atrocious odor of mouse bile to the snarky criticisms. From the teaching of Sedgeberry, she heard a plethora of cures and ailments, of which she could only remember the herb _catmint_, though what exactly it was used for she couldn't recall. It was an interesting surprise to discover that she had a father, with whom her mother would spend her little time out of the den.

On the night of the full moon, she woke abruptly from a dreamless slumber, knowing that something was going to happen, something that was powerful and fearful.

Nettlefang moaned, her claws unsheathed and scraping on the ground. Willowkit felt the queen's shudder in the air, raising her fur and sending a rush of energy down her body. It was time for her to see. Tentatively, her eyes peeled open, and the sight that greeted her almost caused her to stagger back and squeeze them shut, though she resisted it to stare at Nettlefang's thrashing body. Convulsions rippled along her pelt, and she whimpered, writhing and shredding the moss of her bedding.

_The kits!_ Willowkit knew that Sedgeberry should be here to help Nettlefang through her kitting, but both he and his apprentice, Larkpaw, were at the gathering. There was no time for her to marvel at her new sight. Uncertain, she padded over and crouched just out of range of Nettlefang's fevered movements, watching wide-eyed as a wet bundle emerged, messy fluids glistening on the dirt in the moonlight. Nettlefang's breathing was hard and fast, her eyes shut hard enough to block out even light, had it been brighter. Staring at the bundle, Willowkit knew, in a distant part of her mind, that something was going wrong. She urged herself to think, but frantically couldn't bring forth any useful memories.

Two pelts pressed against hers, cold and insubstantial like the wind.

_"Lick it; it needs to be free, needs to take its first breath."_

_"Go on, little kit, don't be afraid. We will help you."_

Blood, slick and black in the night, was on her fur, staining her paws, tainting her pelt. Wrinkling her nose at the taste, she lapped at the bundle, knowing deep inside her heart that this kit was born too early to have a chance at life.

_"The she-cat is coming, be quick!"_ hissed a voice.

Nettlefang convulsed again, then stilled, resting her tired body. She seemed to be unaware that the kits had been born, as if she thought it had been only an antagonizing dream. The blood was all over now, spreading like an illness across the ground. Willowkit slipped on it in her attempt to reach the other bundled kit, licking it off of her nose and wincing as its acrid scent overwhelmed her taste and smell.

_"Don't stop, you must hurry!"_

Frenzied now, Willowkit felt her tiny tongue working faster than ever. It was fruitless, a hopeless attempt since the beginning. Nettlefang was silent and even her breathing could no longer be heard.

"Wake up!" mewed Willowkit, biting the queen's tail as hard as she could. With an effort, Nettlefang sat up, struggling in a pool of her own blood and the liquid from the kitting. She stared at Willowkit, who had started washing the kits again in a last, futile effort to revive them, then at the kits, whose bodies lay crumpled on the floor of the den.

In a silent agreement, she and Willowkit lay down together and slept with their noses touching the corpses of the kits, holding their own vigil for two lives that never had a chance to live, for two breaths that had never been taken.

_Why, cats of the stars, did you wake me to save the kits when you knew they would be born dead nonetheless? Why did you let me feel them quicken and grow, only to take away their lives as soon as they were granted?_ She thought.

Desolation became apparent to her for the first time. It was beyond anything she had ever known, and she yet lacked the ability to fully comprehend it. All that she knew was that she had lived the existence of a mother: watching with pride and wonderment as life grew within. She had also lived the fear of the mother: to have that life stolen when surely there had been something that she could have done to prevent it.

* * *

**Note:** This brought with it some nostalgia. I kept going back to that night, years in the past, when I witnessed the birth of seven new lives, none of which I could keep. This was the first and definitely not the last childbirth scene I will write.

I am aware of the inconsistencies with actual kitten growth and know that Willowkit's sense of sound should have been worse than it was, but I am also trying to keep in cannon with the original series, and Bluestar was far more capable when she was _younger_ than Willowkit.

The next chapter should be posted again on the Day of the Sun, and this time I will switch perspectives to another key character: a young rogue called Flood. Don't worry, Willowkit will be back.


	4. Chapter 2

**Warriors: Seeds of the Forbidden: ****Hollow Forest**

_Chapter Two_

_-  
_

_Scales danced with reflected colors _beneath the sheen of ice. Flood's paw pounded the surface, sending the cluster of fish into flight and releasing a torrent of miniscule bubbles.

The world below was almost a dream. It was trapped under a thin enough layer of ice, however, so that it was still untouchable and just out of reach. Settling down onto the frost-dusted grass, Flood sat and watched the fish hover and drift, their delicate fins weaving through the water. There would be no fish to eat tonight.

Sunlight broke through the dense clouds and spilled its light upon the forest, summoning a contented purr from Flood. Leaf-bare had been persistent the last few moons, Nightingale had said, but she had told him that when the sun would shine like it was at the moment, Newleaf was on its way. Flood had never experienced a Newleaf in the few moons of his life, but he very much wanted it to arrive.

Lifting his face to the sky, he warmed his neck and arched his back to stretch, sinking his claws into the earth. It was time to return and find Nightingale to tell her that the pond had frozen over again, though she would likely be weary still from her unsuccessful hunt at dawn.

From the first dim memory Flood could recall, Nightingale had been there with her melodious mew to send him into sleep. She had always stressed that she was not his mother and could never have the ability to fill the hollow void the absence of such a figure left within him. Carefully avoiding the topic directly, Flood tried to assure her that she had. He knew that she needed to keep him and her dead kits apart to be able to continue to love and care for him. As soon as she allowed him to replace her children, she will begin to hate he who occupied the space left behind for what he never had a chance to choose for himself; she would hate him for being the kit that never had the chance to live.

"Nightingale." He dipped his head and walked over to her, watching her rise from washing her night-colored pelt with an amused glint in her eyes of amber.

"So quick, my little Flood, to be formal? There was a not-so distant time when you received your nourishment from my own milk." Her tongue caught his ear and flattened it against his face before she went on to smooth down the rest of his pelt. "Even now it is I who hunts for your prey."

"If I were big enough to hunt, then that wouldn't matter." He told her. "In a few more moons you won't have to worry about me anymore."

"No, in a few more moons you'll be feeding me. Then I'll have to worry about you because if you get hurt, I'll have to hunt for myself!" Her tail flicked the bracken in amusement.

"Nightingale, the fish are safe beneath the ice now," he sighed, turning the conversation back toward the imminent matters at hand. "so you'll have to search the forest again." He watched her eyes dull with sadness. "Don't worry; some prey at least must have been lured out by the sun. You will manage, and if not I can be hungry for one day."

"You are too perceptive to truly believe that I would feed myself before you. Whatever I catch we share evenly, unless it is only enough for one, in which case all will go to you." He started in protest, but she stopped him with a fatigued look. "Don't argue with the one who feeds you, little one."

"If you die, then I die as well."

"I am wasting sunhigh with words, now I must go. I will be back soon. Sleep well." She mewed curtly, turning to leave before he could put in another word. Flood was used to her cold moments just as he enjoyed her warm ones. With Nightingale, her manner changed constantly throughout a single discussion, as if she closed herself up inside when it began to get too emotional. It was an admirable quality, Flood thought, to be able to keep oneself in control. He half-shut his eyes and stared at the swaying grasses, letting his dread flow out of him like a stream. In such a way, he was lulled to sleep.

His dream was familiar in the loosest sense of the word.

Flood stood on a rock with water, more water than he could have imagined possible, swirling in great waves about him. There was nothing he could do to reach the shore, so he stayed and waited, though for what he wasn't sure.

_"You will have to leave here soon."_ Came a voice.

"Leave? Leave where?" he mewed, a sense of calm grounding him and pushing away his panic.

_"Leave your past. You will find a future for yourself like this place, at once peaceful and a terrible, chaotic torrent."_

"Why?" he gasped as a wave broke and crashed upon him, his claws gorging marks into the stone in his struggle to stay grounded. To fall would be his end. He couldn't let the rush steal him away, he couldn't…

_"Because you must leave to save the future. Don't be afraid,"_-the voice gained power and became many, all speaking in perfect unison- _"we will guide you, always, even when you remain blind to our presence."_ Gentle teeth pulled at the back of his neck, lifting him back onto the hard ground. Something began to tug at his memories, but they resisted, flowing just out of his grasp. Somehow, he had been here before, in a situation alike to the one at current, with the same jaws grasping the fur at his neck-

"_Awaken. _Live_."_

His body jerked and he straightened upright, feeling an urgent sense of need. A scent wafted by and he breathed it in, absorbing the pain, the fear, and _Nightingale_. Danger. Instinct warned him not to trespass on its fringes, but he pushed it aside and slipped between the bracken, catching its raspy touch against his fur.

Unfamiliar yowls pierced his ears like the harsh shriek of a mother bird, and he weighed them against the other memories in his mind, developing his course of action. If the cats were harming Nightingale, he would kill them, he decided. Narrowing his eyes and focus, he imagined the warmth of a neck against his teeth, the blood-scent mesmerizing him, his jaw acting and the spurt of warm liquid down his throat with a feeling reminiscent of milk. There was, he realized, an innate knowledge of killing he possessed. He could _sense_ the shape of a cat's body and where the blood would flow fastest, where a quick snap of the head would invite the shadow of death and the force it would take to produce such an effort.

As he ran, he worked his jaw into that shape, licking imaginary blood from his mouth and releasing a low growl that quickly escalated into a howl of its own kind, a deep, threatening sound that scattered a scrawny vole that had been shuffling about in the undergrowth.

His eyes leapt to the sky, widening as he took note of the sun's fall. Sleep had claimed him for most of the remaining light, and Nightingale hadn't returned since sunhigh. Then he _knew_, without the least scrap of doubt, that she was being harmed at this very moment.

If he had possessed wings, he would have flown. He was only just aware of the ground beneath the pounding of his paws and of the soft tearing of his pads. He had to stop, however, when he opened his skin further and the blood began to steadily flow without cease despite how many licks he subjected it to. He was desperate, furiously bringing his tongue over his torn flesh, wanting to be at Nightingale's side, destroying her tormentors, only to be stopped by the bleeding of his weak pads.

"Help me, cats of my dream, if you were truthful in your words." He found himself calling out, letting the bleeding foot fall from his mouth. He closed his eyes, and for a few moments he sat there breathing hard, waiting for a sign that the dream cats had heard his plea. The forest was silent.

Peeling open one eyelid, he glanced about him. Nothing. He wailed and stared at his foot. Tentatively, he placed his weight on it and winced, expecting the blood to start gushing. It didn't, and he started in the direction of Nightingale's scent, moving slower to avoid breaking his skin. Remembering the help he had been given, he paused to send a word of thanks to the cats who had, true to their word, carried out their promise.

There was an omen in this, he decided. He couldn't bleed again. He understood that should the red liquid flow from his pelt a second time, it may never stop. It was a warning that showed him that he had to be careful, even at walking, to not give it any cause to be summoned.

_"You are different from the others. Though it is a great weakness, it is also your greatest strength."_ A voice murmured inside of his head. _"Take care not to forget."_

It took a few more steps before the fur on his back flattened and the shiver of uneasiness left him. Not allowing himself to be distracted further, Flood stopped and opened his jaws to inhale the scent of Nightingale, smelling her distress, her building fear. His ears prickled at the sound of voices and he turned them toward the direction of the sound, increasing his speed until he reached a point when he could understand what was being spoken.

"You" hissed a tom "will listen to us and you will obey."

"And if I don't? You think to kill me, don't you?" Nightingale was amused, or at least she tried to make them think that she was. Flood could catch a bitterness in the waft of her scent that the wind blew his way and knew that she was very afraid. He thanked the dream cats, as they seemed to have established themselves as his protectors, for her ability to lock her true self away.

"I wouldn't be so proud if I were in your position."

A tiny mew touched Flood's ears, barely a whisper against the rustle of the forest. It was a whimper, a suppressed expression of pain. Nightingale.

The song was in his throat again, rumbling through his body until his jaws snapped open and it was free to echo in the forest. He could tell that the other cats heard him. Their responding yowls were utterly feral and infuriated.

"Where is he who dares interfere?" the oppressive odor of the cats seethed from the shadows and surrounded Flood and he heard the padding of approaching paws. Shining in the scattered light of the sun were many pairs of eyes. The song had broken and unleashed into its own, mad yowl. The sound of it frightened Flood, who was not yet able to discern what his body was preparing for or from where the sound sprang. His claws flashed as he leapt over their heads, needing to reach Nightingale. Instinct made him pause, consider returning to-

Kill. His body was telling him, wanting him to kill. _No._ He pushed all aside but the desire to reach Nightingale. Plumed tails waved in the shadows, their owners in full pursuit of the invader. Flood felt his heart thud against his chest and he swept past a clump of sedges and stopped, his eyes widening in horror.

Nightingale, beautiful Nightingale, lay crumpled on the ground with her neck bent and blood gushing from an open wound, pooling on the ground around her.

"I know where to cut so that it bleeds the most." Came the voice of the tom from before. He crouched to the side, drawing his tongue over his paw then behind his head, where Flood noticed it shone crimson with moist blood. The tom, looking up at Flood, continued "Too bad it's also the messiest."

"Why?"

"Because it bleeds the most, I already said-" he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you mean to ask why I killed her? Because I did. You will learn, kit, the allure of murder. It doesn't have to be justified to everyone else."

The song in Flood's throat hadn't ceased except only briefly in the shock of seeing Nightingale's body, but now it coursed strong in his will and he closed his sanity to the force of vengeance. His lips pulled away from his teeth, the black of his eyes expanding in the shadow as he neared the tom.

"See? Even now you seek to murder me. One cat's revenge is another's gravest loss."

Flood could only hear the fury surging within. It roared in his ears and blocked out the world, all but the beating heart and warm pelt of the cat before him.

Fluid like the water, he curved his body and lunged. The center of warmth shifted to one side, slipping just underneath his paws. Earth brushed his fur and his claws grabbed a hold of it and he adjusted his weight to stay upright.

His prey seemed uncertain. Everything about the tom rushed through Flood's mind. Minute calculations were made subconsciously before his next leap.

Blood touched open air, wet on his paws. The tom crouched low and Flood leaned away to avoid him then snapped at the unbalanced cat and felt solid flesh crush between his teeth.

Favoring the wound, the tom made the final mistake and slashed Flood's flank with his claws. The momentum carried over when Flood dipped his head underneath the flashing claws and the tom fell to the ground, hissing as his wounded leg was crushed beneath him.

Flood leaned over him and bit down hard. The skin broke, and he jerked his head to tear it aside, ripping open the neck and summoning a gurgling stream of blood, warm like the light of the sun upon his fur. The lingering instinct of a kit almost brought him to taste it, to see if a substance so similar in feeling to milk also contained something alike to its taste or the spreading warmth as it gushed down his throat.

His fur rose on end. It started coming back to him, the fight, the blood, and the words spoken to him that he had discarded while fighting purely on impulse. He stared at the body growing steadily colder underneath his paws. Tentatively, he licked his mouth and tasted the sharp tang of blood.

"I have killed a cat." He mewed quietly.

_"Yes, little one, and this will not be the last time, though all will be in your own paws in the future. We can only stay with you like this for a short while longer."_

"I wasn't myself. I'm too young even to hunt, and I've already killed a cat."

_"We stepped into your paws and fought your battle for you through the skill of many generations of warriors."_

"Who are you?" A sudden chill rustled Flood's fur.

_"We are ancient warriors of the past. While your physical form was unable, we occupied it and our strength made it possible. Your mind is very great, young kit, and when you are able, you will make a feared warrior indeed."_

"Then I'll be able to kill them all. Every single cat who participated in the murder." Flood said.

As if deliberating how to reply, the dream cats' whispers tickled his ears like a breeze.

"Your mind has gone." A she-cat mewed, her voice barely audible. It took Flood a moment to realize that this voice wasn't in his head. "You speak of such terrible things… And to yourself, as if you and your mind are separate. And you killed him… Why?" The last word manifested into a shriek.

_"Run. You must go!"_ it was the voice of the familiar she-cat from his dream.

_I'll kill them. I'll kill them_. Flood thought, needing to keep himself focused on his revenge, now that it had seized control of him. The shrieking of the she-cat rang in his head repeatedly, faster and faster until it became a single, shrill note piercing his thoughts.

He couldn't help but throw a glance over his shoulder. The distraught she-cat had her head buried in the fur of the dead tom. Flood stared again at Nightingale's body and was unsure if he should have mourned her further. He had never had the chance to learn.

The she-cat's head jerked up at him, her eyes intense and filled with solid loathing. "You are a murderer, kit, and Prophet didn't deserve this. He was a good cat, he-"

"He killed my moth- the cat who raised me!" Flood growled, his tail curling and lashing behind him.

"She was a wicked cat and deserved every bit of it. _She_ murdered _his _kits!"

"Rose, find Prophet and-"An orange tom bristled as he noticed the she-cat, Rose, sharing tongues for the last time with Prophet. Flood followed the tom's eyes as they scanned the clearing, then he staggered back when both Rose and the orange tom focused on him and lowered their bodies to the ground, slinking slowly nearer.

"Let's end this once and for all." Flood said, stabilizing himself for their oncoming attack.

_"No. You will flee. We will not fight this battle for you."_

Denied their help, the only option Flood had left was to run, and he did. Rose's next cry nearly took the rest of his sanity, so great was its lamentation and clouded hate.

_"Poor, lost kit, let us lead you while we can."_

* * *

Fog was festooned over Flood as he traveled, obscuring his scent and acting like a protective veil. The dream cats were silent, though not uneasy. He did not know how he was going to survive while unable to hunt for himself.

Flowing water caught his attention and Flood gratefully lowered his head to the stream and quelled his thirst as well as some of his hunger. It glittered in the retreating sunlight. Flood felt weariness tremble in his paws and realized that he would have to find refuge for the night.

"I am helpless without her. What makes a safe shelter and what doesn't?" He asked, settling down against the graven bark of a tree.

_"You may rest in peace here. You have done well, little one."_

Flood drifted into a dream of cats made of stars and the soothing voice of Nightingale calling him into sleep.

He woke feeling hollow, in hunger and in emotion.

"How will I survive if I starve? I must eat soon."

_"Your body is yet capable of great strength. We will not let hunger destroy you. Now go, you must journey on."_

Flood struggled through the next few turns of the sun. As the shadows of time stretched into a quarter-moon, he forgot how an absence of hunger felt. Sometimes he walked in his own paws, sometimes ancient warriors walked for him. Night was his only solace and even then he would dream only of Nightingale.

As his path was decided by the dream cats, Flood kept himself steeled towards revenge in order to ground himself to the world of the living. Always, he searched for little hints of a large group of cats, searching for the one of which Prophet, Rose and the orange tom had been a part of.

He was slipping away. Flood felt himself withdraw into his dreams, losing his determination. When he voiced his worries, he received no response but the beating of his own heart.

"I'm going to die. And now, I'm not so sure if I care."

"Why?" the mew of a strange cat caught his attention.

"I'm going to die because I cannot hunt for myself. I no longer care because my real mother abandoned me at birth, the cat who had raised me was murdered, and I have no means to find her murderers to avenge her death." Staring at a small pool, Flood wondered if he could even recall the methods Nightingale had used to turn fish into prey.

"My housefolk have food. Would you like some?"

Flood widened his eyes. 'Housefolk' was the term given by kittypets to refer to their twolegs. He examined the cat for the first time, contrasting his own, famished grey pelt with the smooth rounding of the tom's brown one.

"Don't decline my offer, I won't allow it. Come!" the tom chirped.

Scrambling to his feet, Flood followed him through a flap of a strange material into a nearby twoleg nest. He was led to a heaping mound of dry-smelling pellets. They were just close enough to the scent of fresh-kill for him to gulp them down, ravenous. _There isn't a piece of fresh-kill to match the taste of subdued hunger_, he thought. He raised his eyes to meet those of the tom, who was sitting to the side with a glimmer of amusement in his face.

"I thank you for your kindness. Can you help me once more? I need to know where to find a large group of cats." Respectfully, Flood stepped away from what was left of the food. It had been hard to restrain himself from devouring it all, but Nightingale had warned him against slaking his hunger with huge binges of prey.

"Funny, that. There is indeed a large group of cats in the forest. Follow the light of the dawn sun and you will reach them." He followed Flood out of the nest. "I understand that you will not want to stay any longer to chat. Travel well!"

"I am grateful for all of your help." Flood started to walk away, feeling renewed. He paused. "Wait, what is your name?"

"I am called Grouse. And who are you, kit?"

"Flood. Nightingale named me Flood." Both cats dipped their heads to the other and went their own directions.

The burning call for vengeance had resurrected within Flood, coursing strong with his blood through his body. He knew that he had to reach the forest cats. There was no doubt in his mind that they were murderers and that he needed to exterminate their kind. Starry paws walked alongside of his, offering their guidance.

_"We will have to leave you very soon now, little kit. Only the mind of the innocent can hold such an easy connection with us. But you must know that we will never truly leave you, for you will bring with you the end. It will be a terrible end, but you will also bring the only hope."_

The forlorn kit could only journey on.

* * *

**Note:** I made StarClan more personal than the cannon usually portrays them, which I thought made sense because the mind of an innocent kit is less restricted and more impressionable. This will change really soon. And yes, Flood does have feline hemophilia.

I haven't had much experience with writing battle scenes involving cats, so if anyone has criticism or suggestions I would be glad to hear them.

Next chapter will be again from Willowkit's perspective, but expect more from Flood in the future. The story will be told from a combination of both of their perspectives.


	5. Chapter 3

_**Warriors: Seeds of the Forbidden: Hollow Forest**_

_Chapter 3_

_**-**_

_Willowkit woke before the sun_ to lick the dried blood from her fur. Nettlefang purred with half of her usual vigor as Willowkit started to groom her, too.

"Your little tongue won't do me much good now." She sighed, keeping her voice low as to not wake Willowkit's littermates or her mother.

"Nettlefang, why were they born dead? They were alive… they were alive so recently."

"I'm too old. This would have been my last kitting, but my body couldn't handle another birth." Still exhausted, she straightened onto her back legs and leaned down to share tongues with Willowkit. "You did your best, but StarClan thought it better that they not be subjected to the misery of life."

"But, StarClan-" She snapped her jaws shut when she realized that her encounter with the starry cats would be considered only the product of a dream. "StarClan wouldn't be that cruel."

"Get some sleep before the morning, Willowkit." Nettlefang was receding deep into a pit of sorrow, and Willowkit felt herself being pushed away.

"I smell blood!" Yowled a distant she-cat.

"I'd appreciate it if you- wait, blood?!" An annoyed warrior mewed from his den, obviously having just been woken from his rest.

"The kits came." Nettlefang called.

"They're dead." A small voice said. _Larkpaw_, the medicine cat apprentice.

Protests and laments rang in the early morning air, all trying to atone for sleeping through or being absent from the birthing and all regretting the loss of the lives that had never been, lives that the clan had needed. Willowkit wondered why the cats who had attended the gathering had taken until nearly dawn to return.

"Enough. I will bury them alone." Taking up the bodies carefully in her mouth, Nettlefang padded out of the den. Willowkit stumbled after her.

It stole her breath from her throat. What she had learned of the thing called _color_ during the previous night amounted to nothing compared to what she saw in the blush of dawn. Cats, whose shapes were familiar to her, seemed like new creatures with their shining eyes and beautiful, marked fur. They seemed to nearly fill the camp.

Nettlefang's path parted the assembly of cats, pity in their eyes and solemn respect. One cat separated from the ranks and sat in the void of space before the grieving queen.

"Don't give that excuse to your sister, Nettlefang. I have just as much of a right to help as does that kit. More, even."

"Willowkit shared my burden, Badgerstep. They were hers as much as mine, and as my mate is dead, she has the sole right to join me now."

"Don't push me away when you need me the most.

Nettlefang said nothing at all. Willowkit lowered her jaw and inhaled Badgerstep's scent, trying to determine her emotions as the shadow-pelted cat retreated, her head bowed and eyelids slid shut. Everything was jumbled and disorienting, flooding her mind with a whirl of confusion and conflict. Apparently Badgerstep didn't know either.

With a prickle of surprise, Willowkit noticed that her sense of smell was fading. Spottednose's hushed voice came back to her. _It's like I'm a kit again, except this time all of my sense are weakening and not just smells._ Willowkit sent an absentminded thought at StarClan, _why give something only to take it away?_

No one stopped Nettlefang from leading Willowkit out of the camp.

The forest seemed lethargic and dreary, the foliage laden with dew under the light of the rising sun. The air was rich and moist, causing her breath to rush out and lay heavy in the air, as if a giant rock was compressing the world, the forest, her, and the two stiff bodies dangling from Nettlefang's mouth. Everything gave off a deep, earthy scent.

"Nettlefang, how can you hunt if everything smells the same and… It's all muddled in my mind…" Willowkit asked, briefly forgetting about their purpose upon the full force of her wonderment. It was dizzying, but in an open, unconfined way that was unlike the enveloping safety of the den.

"It's worse after it rains." The old queen replied curtly.

Tipping her head to one side, Willowkit realized that it _had_ rained that night. Nettlefang obviously expressed her dislike for partaking in casual conversation on such a somber occasion, so Willowkit did not pursue the matter any further. Instead, she concentrated on watching Nettlefang navigate the forest, carefully avoiding stepping on thorns or sharp stones.

"Stop. It will be done here. Better their bodies nurture the forest than feed a scavenger." Nettlefang started to claw away loose earth, scattering soil over the ground.

"Wait!" Willowkit yelped, scrambling across the roots of an oak tree. She wriggled into a crevice and emerged with two acorns clasped in her teeth, green leaves sprawling out from a crack in their hard shells and fluttering in the slight breeze of her movement.

"You want to bury those, too? But, how did you know that they will grow into trees…?" Nettlefang received the acorns from Willowkit and placed one in each of the graves.

"I didn't. I was just led over there by… an intuition, I guess, or maybe a dream." He fur rose on end and a shiver traveled down her back. _StarClan must have compelled me_, she thought.

"Come, we must return now." Nettlefang mewed, touching her nose one last time to the freshly unearthed soil.

The prospect of returning to the camp was displeasing to Willowkit. The world seemed so huge and free, as if she were simply a single leaf in a forest, unrestrained and lifted in the wind. Walking had brought out her weariness and it tingled in her paws as she placed careful pressure on them.

Droplets scattered in the air, dislodged from the leaves, and struck Willowkit's nose, causing her to back away and watch in awe as a small bundle of brown fur raced through the underbrush. Nettlefang followed its movements with a distant expression on her face.

"Vole. A scrawny one, but still prey." She expressed no inclination to give chase.

Willowkit caught its scent in the turned-up air and preserved it in her memory, struck by the pattering of its tiny heart. It hadn't occurred to her that prey had been alive once, too.

Upon reaching ThunderClan camp, a gathering of sorts was in progress and all of the cats seemed tense, squabbling and twittering amongst themselves like birds. It created a slight pain in Willowkit's head to hear all of the noise oppressing itself and dominating the peace of the forest. Dazed, she sluggishly moved forward at Nettlefang's nudging, wanting to be asleep again in the calm of the den.

"RiverClan expressed a wish to claim part of ThunderClan territory, too?"

Willowkit separated Dawnheart's mew from the rest. "Yes. After Dovestar put in her opinion, Reedstar seemed to think it a good idea, too. Foxstar and I had to work hard to convince them that it wasn't worth it." The deputy replied.

"This is mousebrained; a spat over hunting and Foxstar and Dovestar use their clans to get back at each other. Don't we have better use for our time? For our _lives_?" Willowkit dimly recognized the voice as belonging to Elmfur, a reserved ginger tom who frequented the nursery to visit Morninglight.

"It's more than a spat over hunting, now. The other clans are sticking their paws into matters that they shouldn't. If we're not careful, there will be deaths."

Willowkit stiffened at the sound of her mother's voice. "There _have _been deaths. Nettlefang's kits died because there was no medicine cat to attend the birthing."

At her side, Nettlefang spoke up. "No. They died because StarClan decided that they weren't meant to live. And StarClan took them back…"

"StarClan wouldn't kill a kit at their own will. They would kill it to save another." Morninglight approached and curled her tail around Willowkit, drawing her away from the others. Willowkit nearly fell asleep on her paws, the color swirling about her vision and the light, burning her eyes…

Graceful sleep descended upon her the moment moss touched her fur.

* * *

"Willowkit! Willowkit! What's the forest like?" Brightkit's voice squealed.

"Yes, you should tell us because no way will _we_ get to leave before we pass our sixth moon…" Wrenkit muttered.

"It was big." Willowkit said in a murmur, unwilling to open her eyes.

"We know that already. What was it _like_?"Brightkit mewed.

"It was almost another place. Another world."

"We know that already, too! Tell us something interesting."

Reaching out with her paws, Willowkit stretched her legs and back before rolling onto her feet. She had to remember to open her eyes after being blind for so long. She flinched back and shut them again immediately.

"Is it always this bright?" she whimpered, afraid of the uncomfortable glare. She had thought that light was soft and caressing, as was the glow of the moon and morning sun, but this was unbearable.

"During most of the day it is. Morninglight thought it would hurt you because your eyes were closed so long. 'It's unnatural', she had said." Mosskit mewed from a few tail-lengths away.

"I don't want it, then. I'd give up color if I could also give up light."

"But… I didn't get to see your eyes. Can you open them so that I can see for a moment?" Brightkit said.

"They're blue." Wrenkit told her.

"But what _color_ of blue? They could be blue like night, or moonlight, or the sky between clouds when it isn't raining, or-"

"This." Forcing her eyelids away, Willowkit hissed as the sun clawed at her and huddled in the shadow, relaxing only as the pain began to lessen.

"Oh, they're like the moon! Only a bit darker, like- hmm…" Brightkit seemed at loss of words to describe the exact shade.

"Like a clear stream. You kits haven't seen running water or a pool yet, but Willowkit's eyes are the closest color comes to it." Nettlefang said, her jaw gaping open and tongue curling as her mew wrapped into a yawn.

"What does the rest of me look like, then?" Willowkit asked, forgetting about the earlier pain of sight in her newfound curiosity.

"You are mostly white. But, on your back, you have cream and dark brown patches that curl over your head." Brightkit said excitedly. "The white goes just past your eyes. How do I look? What color is my fur?"

"Cream, and you have green eyes." Wrenkit told her. He went on to describe Mosskit, who appeared uninterested but didn't seem to object. Brightkit didn't stay quietly occupied for long and started a mock fight over a ball of moss, which led into an argument over which kit accidently sent it into Spottednose's head.

Settling back into a small nick in the walls of the den, Willowkit closed her eyes and opened her ears to the clan life. The temporary blindness helped amplify the sounds. Morninglight was speaking to Rowanwhisker just outside the den, and Willowkit listened in keen interest.

"They don't know what to think of him, there, constantly at my side, and then at yours. They think he fathered my kits." Morninglight mewed. _Elmfur_, Willowkit realized. They were speaking of Elmfur.

"They wouldn't understand. We have to be careful, they will always be eager to attack anything that doesn't conform to their little, ideal lives. And Elmfur is… more than just a friend, less than a lover. The three of us are bonded, but not in blood."

Willowkit knew none of what they spoke of. She appreciated Elmfur's calm and familiarity; how he lessened the attention her mother gave her and allowed her a fleeting moment of peace. He had always been Morninglight and Rowanwhisker's dearest and closest friend, and Willowkit never felt anxiety when he managed to claim a reprieve from his warrior duties to visit her and the other kits as long as he stood at her side to take her mother's interest away.

"Morninglight. Rowanwhisker. Foxstar finally let me off a hunting patrol." It was Elmfur, his voice nearing that of Willowkit's mother and father. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."

"No, you are always welcome. We are simply trying to figure out how to deal with the rumors of the other cats."

"Let them have their rumors. They can't be very far from the truth, anyways." Elmfur's voice lowered in tone until it was a deep growl, sending tingles along Willowkit's spine. "We really have no way of knowing who the father was."

She did not know the full connotations behind what they were discussing, though she knew that it was something beyond her and the other cats of the forest. It unnerved her, however, and she turned her attention elsewhere.

"Willowkit! You're boring." Brightkit told her flatly. "Play with us!" Something soft slammed into Willowkit's back and knocked her to the ground, and then it scrambled on top of her and pinned her down. "If you don't, then I won't get off." Indignant, Brightkit huffed at her sister.

"No. You can sit there for as long as you want." It was warm to have another body pressed against hers. "I-" Willowkit hissed as something sharp closed in around her neck. She involuntarily squirmed and struck out with her paws in a flurry of panic, needing to free herself from the pain. "Okay, I'll play. Now please let go?" It was a plea.

"Okay! Now chase me!" Brightkit released her hold and slid off of Willowkit, racing away. "Come on, mousebrain! Or are you too slow?" she taunted. It had less of an effect because it was true. Willowkit knew that she was slower, less witty, and far more withdrawn than her sister. She didn't waste time on insults, clever comments, or annoying her littermates. And Mosskit, though quieter, was still faster and skilled in play. Wrenkit was similar and would generally refuse Brightkit's whims. She heeded _his_ wishes.

A strange noise caught Willowkit's ear and she turned her head to direct her hearing at it. It resembled a bird call, and instilled a sense of awe within her.

"What's that?" she called to Brightkit, causing the she-cat to stop and swivel her ears around.

"I dunno. Let's go find out!"

The two kits left the den and rushed eagerly into the clearing, immediately latching their gaze onto a small body crumpled in the dust. Its chest heaved, so it was breathing, but only just barely. A small head rose from the ground and it let out another screech that tingled through Willowkit's fur. The creature was a tomcat.

"I'll kill you. All of you!" he shouted, wobbling on unsteady paws. His gaze turned on Willowkit and her breath caught at the dull glaze over his eyes. They were vacant and staring at some point in the distance, lit somewhere from within by an unknown last reservoir of will. She raked her eyes over the rest of him, taking in a matted, grey pelt that stretched around a body that was nearly thin enough to be blown away in the wind.

He was volatile and detached, lunging and hissing at any cat who dared approach. Willowkit sniffed in distaste at his fervor for battle and decided that he wasn't worth her pity. Mosskit, who had padded up to her side, seemed completely enthralled.

"He's going to be the best warrior in the clan." She breathed.

Spottednose appeared in the corner of Willowkit's vision, and she watched the cat approach, dragging her legs behind her and moving at an antagonizing slow pace. The tiny, malnourished cat leapt upon the elder with cold fury, and his high shriek echoed with her caterwauling.

His head wrapped under her neck and he dug in his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Spottednose collapsed, unable to flee.

At least five warriors and Fawnpaw dove at the tom and viciously tore him away.

"No! Don't leave me now! I need… I need to kill them…" his yowl rang hollow in the air. Willowkit wondered if he was ill, for his words seemed to be meant for none of them. She watched his body fall and lie unmoving.

"He is just a kit." Nettlefang called out.

"Spottednose!" Dawnheart placed a paw on the still cat. "Spottednose!" she whirled around in fury and faced the tom, who was kept enclosed by a guard of warriors. "You killed a helpless elder. I should give you a merciful death now because you clearly are afflicted by an illness of the mind, but I will spite you instead and let you live with what you have done."

Badgerstep and Nettlefang both walked to Dawnheart's side, obviously fearing that her anger would override her sense. Morninglight and Elmfur also came and ran before the deputy, Morninglight was ahead and Elmfur was continuously trying to lead her away. Willowkit heard her mother speak. "No. He deserves death. If we cannot keep an elder safe from a kit, then what about _my_ kits? Fawnpaw, an apprentice? This kit is too powerful."

"He is frenzied by something. Maybe he is driven mad by hunger. Kit, do you want some of our fresh-kill?" Foxstar touched the four cats and his deputy with the tip of his tail, warning them against it should they attempt anything rash.

Larkpaw padded over to the motionless tom, carefully carrying a vole in her mouth. Sedgeberry accompanied her. He leaned over the kit and silence washed over the camp. Larkpaw bit off a small piece of the fresh-kill and dropped it next to his face. The pink of his tongue flashed and pulled it into his mouth.

"He will live. A warrior should be at his side at all times while he heals in my den, and we will decide his fate after he is well enough to explain his position." Sedgeberry called to the expectant ThunderClan.

The cats whispered amongst themselves, and a few warriors separated themselves from the others. Both Nettlefang and Badgerstep offered to guard the kit, as well as a tom, Berryshrew, who was one of the clan's most skilled warriors.

"My kits never got to take their first breaths. I will make sure that this one will live to grow into a strong ThunderClan warrior." Nettlefang mewed. "Besides, it's about time I left the nursery den. I knew it had to happen soon now." She received a nod from Sedgeberry, and then she lifted the body of the kit in her jaws and followed the medicine cats into their den without a farewell to Willowkit or any other words.

Bowing her head, Willowkit realized that the special bond she shared with the she-cat was slowly disintegrating into memory. _And it ended with another death… _she thought, as a few cats crouched beside Spottednose in mourning. Morninglight's eyes were upon her, intent and consuming, and she turned around and entered the den, then returned to her corner and curled into sleep.

* * *

**Note: **This chapter was hard to write. I don't really know why, but I had to force myself to trudge through it.

No one really seems to like this, and I understand. But please, if you know what I could do to make it better, than tell me. I write purely for my own interest, but I am willing to listen to the opinions of others. I changed the rating to 'T' for now, but if anyone requests it I'll change it back to 'M'.

Hopefully, I will manage to get the next chapter up on Sunday, but at this point I may end up being delayed a bit because I'm going to be spending the next week doing a state required test and studying for AP Chemistry.


	6. Chapter 4

_****__**Warriors: Seeds of the Forbidden: Hollow Forest**_

_Chapter 4_

_-_

_"He said his name is Flood."_ Brightkit informed the occupants of the den. "I know it's true, because I heard it from Elmfur, who Berryshrew told, who knew because Badgerstep overheard Nettlefang-"

"Is that really necessary?" Wrenkit asked.

"Yes." Brightkit crouched low, narrowing her eyes. "And now I shall fight you, rogue kit!" her call earned her a snort from Mosskit, who was cleaning her fur and looking pointedly uninterested.

"You look like a crow preening your feathers." Brightkit retorted at her.

It had been a quarter-moon since the arrival of the kit. The matter over his name was old news, and Willowkit had already heard far more exaggerated things from the senior warriors, who prattled on like elders. She was, meanwhile, learning how to distinguish fact from rumor. Something about Flood was innately compelling, and she remained unsure why she was so eager to learn all of him that she could.

"They say that he swore vengeance on the murder of his mother, and that he's spent his entire life learning how to kill." Brightkit mewed excitedly, jabbing at Mosskit with her paw.

"Who's this 'they' you are referring to?" Wrenkit asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes. "I've always wondered that."

"That's not the point! He's dangerous, _very_ dangerous."

"And you want us to fight and scare him away?" Mosskit mewed, ducking behind Wrenkit to avoid her sister.

"Of course! Then maybe they'll make us warriors, or apprentices at the very least."

"So 'they' is Foxstar? But-" Wrenkit's thought trailed away as Morninglight shifted in her rest and started to wake.

"Not now." Brightkit whispered.

Content to be ignored, Willowkit turned her attention away from them and strained her hearing to see if she could catch any more information on Flood. The cold presence of Morninglight at her side soon destroyed any last hope of that.

"Useless." Willowkit heard her utter, and she cowered into herself in fear. Almost, she brought herself to request an explanation for her mother's odd behavior towards only one of her four kits, but the words fell flat and she couldn't bring herself to convey them.

"There's an old tale that every litter of four carries one who is different. Better _you_ die than any other, better you than-" Each spiteful word of her mother's dug deep into Willowkit, and worse was the knowledge that she was powerless to stop them or even to understand.

"Morninglight!" Elmfur called, racing into the den. He paused to glance between her and Willowkit with worry shadowing his eyes. "Rowanwhisker and I were wondering if- if you could come on a hunting patrol with us." He ended awkwardly, as if he had planned to say it differently. Willowkit watched as his tail swept around and with the barest of touch brushed her mother's back, beckoning her away.

Morninglight blinked, then stared at him vacantly. A shudder passed through her and she leaned out to close the distance between them, following him away.

"Great! Now we can leave!" Brightkit chirped, breaking the stares of Wrenkit and Mosskit, who were looking at Willowkit with a strange expression. Nettlefang's leaving of the nursery had created an entrance into the world of freedom, especially with Morninglight's now-frequent absences.

"We're going to visit the murderer-kit, aren't we?" Wrenkit mewed.

"That actually sounds fun." Mosskit said, turning to face Willowkit. "Do you want to come?"

Giving it a brief moment of thought, Willowkit consented and the four kits decided how best to leave the nursery without notice and how to return before Morninglight.

Blinking back the sun, they emerged from the den and ducked into the dirtplace, steadily advancing behind any obstacles to reach the medicine cat's den. They narrowly evaded Berryshrew, and slipped just under Dawnheart's gaze, sending Willowkit's heart fluttering. Mosskit hissed at them to be careful.

Somehow, it had turned into a patrol into the enemy camp, Brightkit starting to play as if they were seeking to smuggle out lost ThunderClan kits from WindClan's hold. But, as soon as the seriousness began to wear off, it became much harder to keep quiet and out of sight.

"We only have a little time. I think Sedgeberry and Larkpaw are out, but Nettlefang is-" Wrenkit whispered.

"Over there!" Brightkit exclaimed, staring beneath a tree near the fresh-kill pile, where Nettlefang was sharing tongues with her sister. "We are lucky! They've left him alone."

Quivering with excitement, Willowkit followed her littermates around to the entrance of the den, keeping her senses alert for any sign that they had been noticed by the others. It seemed safe, so in a reckless dash, they all stumbled into the den. Flood glanced up, startled at their sudden appearance.

"We'll make you pay, murderer-kit!" Brightkit called in jest, wriggling onto her haunches and preparing to pounce.

"No, you mousebrain! Don't you dare touch him!" Mosskit told her with bristling fur. "We only came to see him, not to fight!" Willowkit had forgotten about her sister's infatuation with the kit.

Flood simply stared between them, as if he was not quite sure what to do. "If you are able to kill me, then you probably should." He reluctantly mewed.

"What? _Kill_ you? We aren't murderers." Brightkit said, offended. She noticed her littermates' glares and cocked her head in confusion, not realizing that her words had hurt Flood.

"I didn't want to kill for no reason, I only want to kill murderers. And the previous time _they_ didn't make me do it, it was all my fault, so kill me." He said, casting his gaze to the earth.

Three responses came simultaneously.

"Wait, so who is '_they_' and why did-?"

"You're trying to kill to stop killing? Wha-?"

"Why would we want to kill you?"

All three were cut off by each other, and a low voice sounded from behind that stopped all further conversation.

"Flood, I have some fresh-kill for you-" Nettlefang's mew started softly, then sharpened and grew angry. "Wait, what are you kits doing here?" she asked, infuriated.

_Foxdung, I forgot to remind them to leave before she came back!_ Willowkit thought. Something in the old queen's mew made her turn around to look at her, hoping for the smallest of hints of the strange relationship that had previously bloomed between them. What she did see nearly crushed her. In Nettlefang's eyes was a new look, one that Willowkit had noticed before, but never had it been directed at her. It was a mother's love: beautiful, plain, and unrequited.

"W-we wanted to see Flood. There aren't any other kits, you know, and we only wanted to play!" Brightkit's mew quailed.

Desperate, Willowkit crawled closer to Nettlefang, helplessly staring up at her. _Can you be _my_ mother, too?_ She yearned to ask. Morninglight never would fulfill that role; it was as if she was unable to extend her love to cover any others outside of Elmfur, Rowanwhisker and three of her kits.

Nettlefang's gaze, however, soared straight past her, focusing on Flood, who hadn't raised his gaze from the ground. She seemed to need to reassure herself that he was unharmed. Flood's head jerked upright and his eyes sank deep into Willowkit's, brimming with sorrow. He didn't want or need Nettlefang's love.

"Let's get you back to the nursery, Willowkit. Sedgeberry'll let Flood leave here soon and he will probably be joining you four there anyways." The queen relented, starting toward the den's opening.

Upon their return, Brightkit coerced them into another game, this time a faux battle against WindClan, placing herself into the role of a warrior, Brightclaw, as she temporarily named herself. Mosskit decided to be Floodtooth, the fearsome warrior with the power of all of StarClan, and Wrenkit was the WindClan leader. Willowkit was haphazardly assigned an anonymous warrior in the ranks of WindClan, and participated only to keep her mind away from Flood and Nettlefang.

Their mother returned, exhausted, near the end of the game, and seemed unaware that anything unusual had transpired in her absence. Willowkit hoped it would stay that way.

* * *

Flood did indeed move into the nursery den within the next few nights after hastily being renamed Floodkit, and the entire clan was warned against harboring any sort of prejudice against him. He was assumed to be approaching his third moon, younger than Willowkit, because of his small size.

Morninglight tolerated him, if possible, less than she tolerated Willowkit. She had convinced herself that he was a threat to herself and her kits, and hissed many comments at him detailing her affections as such. It made Willowkit grateful when she realized that she would have to suffer through less of her mother's unfair judgments and accusations.

"Willowkit, your mother doesn't hate you, she just…" Elmfur attempted to reassure her.

"Thinks I'm defective?" Willowkit offered.

"-Isn't exactly understood." He finished, seeming to decide that his attempt was going nowhere.

Morninglight chose that moment to reenter the den with Rowanwhisker, and the two of them walked over to Elmfur and shared a few quiet words that Willowkit didn't bother to catch. Elmfur had given her an idea that carried a slim amount of hope. Willowkit had begun to think of a way she could prove her worth to her mother and maybe, after gaining her respect, convince Morninglight to love her; similar to what had occurred with Nettlefang and Flood.

She knew that she needed to become someone useful. Exactly _what_ she was unsure. Then it came to her. _I can be a medicine cat._ She realized. It would be a role that would not require her to fight, and she could help heal cats so that no one would dare call her 'useless' or 'defective'. And maybe, if she had formal training, the next kits she helped birth would survive.

"That's it." She breathed.

"What?" Nettlefang asked, blinking her eyes. Floodkit turned to face Willowkit, staring at her in a raw, consuming way as if he saw into her mind and feelings. She squirmed and turned away, muttering that it was nothing.

The other kits were curled up together, resting, and Willowkit lay down next to them, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing so to appear asleep. It did not cause Floodkit to lift his unnerving stare for a while, and until he finally did, she found herself unable to concentrate on anything.

_Sedgeberry._ She reminded herself. The medicine cat's den was nearby, and she found herself just able to catch what was said from within it.

"Larkpaw," Sedgeberry mewed. "Brokentooth has complained of bellyache. What should be done to treat it?"

"Chervil. The juice of the leaves-"

"No, not the leaves. Chervil leaf juice is used for infected wounds. Try again."

"The… roots? Give Brokentooth some to chew, and his bellyache should lessen." Larkpaw said with some uncertainty.

"Correct. Now, there is another remedy that would also help. This one may, in fact, be even better, and as the chervil plants have been nearly destroyed by frost, this one is very important and thank StarClan we have a plentiful supply of it."

"Juniper berries."

"Go fetch some for Brokentooth." Sedgeberry told her, his voice betraying an obvious pride for his apprentice.

_Juice of chervil leaf for infected wounds. Chew the roots for bellyache. Juniper berries for bellyache._ Willowkit repeated in her mind, making sure that she remembered. It came surprisingly easy to her. She wondered if being a medicine cat was her destiny, and thanked StarClan for allowing her this one thing.

A sudden mew from near the dirtplace caught Willowkit's attention. "Goldeneye! Why are you doing this? Only harm will come of it, it's going to bring another enemy on ThunderClan, and we don't need that! Please." Willowkit vaguely identified the speaker as Dustflower, a young warrior.

"Just because you're my sister doesn't put my life in your absolute control. This feels right, as if StarClan themselves are encouraging it. I won't stop following my heart just because of _you_." Goldeneye spat, her words hanging empty in the air.

"Then _go_. Leave me alone and go to him. See if I care when you ignite a whole new conflict between the clans."

A breeze slipped into the nursery, carrying the last, chilled breath of leaf-fall, and woke Willowkit's littermates, severing her attention on Dustflower and Goldeneye's conversation.

"Willowkit? Ask Floodkit if he wants to play with us." Mosskit told her between yawns.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Brightkit exclaimed, already quite awake.

"You can tell him yourself." Offered Wrenkit.

"But-" Brightkit was interrupted by a frantic yowl.

"Foxstar, Dawnheart-! We encountered a WindClan patrol, they accused us of stealing prey, and now Berryshrew and the others are fighting them. We need… we need more warriors." Fawnpaw gasped outside the den, summoning a pattering of worried paws as every cat in hearing came to hear what was going on. Willowkit and her littermates ducked their heads around the side of the den to stare at the apprentice and the cats gathered around her, jostling amongst themselves for the best view.

Willowkit struggled under Mosskit and poked her head out near the floor, disliking the cramped position but not minding so much as long as she could _see_. Dawnheart and Foxstar emerged from a conference in the leader's den and leapt up highrock, the light of the sun glowing softly at the edge of their fur and shining in their determined eyes.

"Cats of ThunderClan, we must retaliate. Berryshrew, Badgerstep, choose three warriors each and go, get to that battle and show Dovestar why this clan is so proud of its warriors!" Foxstar's rippling growl echoed in the clan. A din of voices rose with Willowkit's fur.

It was too similar: the noise, the bloodlust, the crescendo of the clamor, and the fear that not all that left, eager pelts streaking past, would return. Willowkit didn't want to be alone. A whimper escaped her.

"Willowkit, don't tell me you're afraid. The battle isn't in camp, and no way will they let us be involved."

"I don't want him to die. It doesn't even make sense!" Willowkit mewed, growing flustered.

"Who will die?" Nettlefang muttered sharply from behind. "A ThunderClan cat?"

"I don't… I don't even know! I vaguely remember him, but much more than that, I cannot say." It almost felt as if a cat had leaned over her and had whispered it hoarsely in her ear. Nettlefang grew silent, and Willowkit heard her withdraw back into the den.

Somehow, the death of this cat equated to Willowkit being alone. It kept pounding in her head, taunting her, and all she knew was that she didn't want it.

"What's happening? I heard Foxstar's yowl, but… Who is going to battle, is Elmfur or Rowanwhisker among them?" Morninglight's worried mew floated over.

"Um, no I can't see-" Wrenkit started, shifting his weight on top of Willowkit and pushing her head into the ground with his feet in a futile attempt to increase his narrow field of vision.

"Stop moving, you're going to cause me to fall over!" Brightkit whined.

"There they are, following Berryshrew!" Mosskit yelped. "They're both going."

"No!"

Willowkit couldn't stand it for a moment longer; it was as if her world was collapsing around her. She slipped back inside the warm safety of the den and curled up, trying to go to sleep so to forget it all. She caught Floodkit's eye once more, and he took a hesitant step toward her, then stiffened and paused mid-step.

"You've been in battle before, haven't you, Willowkit?" Nettlefang mewed, seemingly bringing Floodkit back to his senses and causing him to return to her side, dropping his gaze. "I remember. It was such a _mousebrained_ thing, fighting in camp. But you set them straight, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You wandered into the middle of a fight and showed them exactly why it is not good to fight in a camp. You showed them that innocent kits can get hurt. And that stopped the battle." Nettlefang had a glazed look over her eyes, as if the reminiscence had swallowed her.

"But, the other cats must be bad, then, to fight where innocents could be hurt. We are stopping them. That's why the clans are fighting, that's why it is okay." Floodkit said, rousing Nettlefang from her trance.

"It's not that simple." She murmured, lovingly staring at Floodkit, who looked away. "The world cannot be divided into good or bad, life or death. It's all the shades in between."

"Sometimes the shades in between are worse. Cats can't understand things that don't fit a solid, definable ideal. Maybe that's the root of conflict." Morninglight mewed, her voice bitter.

"Then am I in between the extremes?" Willowkit asked her mother before she realized that she had turned the focus of the conversation upon herself. It didn't end up mattering because Morninglight didn't bother to pursue it and turned back to cleaning her fur, refusing to give an answer.

The kits played at the den entrance for a while, though Floodkit and Willowkit did not participate and avoided each other's eye contact. The battle was impossible for Willowkit to flee when it manifested in every game of her littermates, and she watched them destroy WindClan over and over again and began to wonder if an ache in her head meant that she was falling ill.

"Dawnheart's returned!" A cat called. "But, something's wrong!"

"No!" Morninglight shrieked again. "I knew one of them would die! No!" her wailing pierced the sky, the clouds rolling away from the sun to reveal an expanse of air that was dappled in twilight. The clan dissolved into a collective commotion of whispers, and both queens and all of the kits exited the den to confirm her worries.

"It's Elmfur and Rowanwhisker, they're nowhere to be found!" Dawnheart panted as she emerged from the forest, cats clamoring after her. "We looked all over our territory." She bowed her head briefly. "Their scents were too muddled in the battle for us to find them."

"But, only one was to die tonight." Willowkit said, immediately aware that she had said the wrong thing.

"And how are you to know, you're only a kit. You're ignorant and your mind is all but empty of the world." Morninglight barely managed to speak between wails.

"Morninglight! Morninglight!" called a voice. Willowkit instantly recognized it as Rowanwhisker's, and attempted to look over the rippling mass of cats, which had rose up to see him, too. The tom continued, his mew raw. "It's about Elmfur, I- _we_, need you!"

Morninglight herself had already leapt away toward the voice, screeching something incoherent. In a blur, she shoved the others aside and pushed her way through the camp entrance. The sound of her mew soothing Rowanwhisker could be heard, and then both she and the tom emerged, catching some loose leaves in her fur as she staggered into camp, supporting an unsteady Elmfur between herself and Rowanwhisker. Their three pelts were pressed close enough together they could almost have been intertwined into one being.

"I did it. I don't know what came over me, but this blind rage fell upon me, took me as its prey." Elmfur muttered. "And before I knew it… his fur was between my claws, wound around my teeth. And there was this _taste_."

"What happened, Rowanwhisker? What brought him into this state?" Morninglight hissed in fear.

"I- I killed him. And I came back to my normal self, and he had already… Gone." Elmfur whispered.

"Who was it? Who did you kill?"

"Thistletail. He-"

Willowkit's eyes grew wide. A remnant of a memory flickered in her mind, and with some effort she called it forth. Thistletail, a WindClan cat who had participated in that battle… she couldn't recall the name, but she could match it with a body, a cat. _He stopped his clanmate from attacking me! _She suddenly recalled.

"He had separated us from the others, and confronted us on his own." Rowanwhisker continued from the fragments of information Elmfur provided. "We fought, the two of us against him. It was… dishonorable. We should have fought him fairly, but everything had enveloped us, the battle, the blood, everything. And then Elmfur fell upon him, fiercer than I have ever seen him fight in all of the moons we've been bonded- friends, I mean. He was fiercer than in all of the years we've been friends. And he-"

"I clawed open his throat and ended him, there, on WindClan's own territory. I fled, still not quite myself, and Rowanwhisker, he followed after me, brought me back…" Elmfur shuddered. "…here."

"It has happened. An innocent life has been lost in this rivalry. Foxstar, _it must be stopped._"

* * *

**Note:** It seems there's at least one death in every chapter. That wasn't exactly intentional, and it's going to change soon anyways, but the story itself seems to actually be moving toward something, at least. Maybe I'll actually start following my outline soon.

I'm glad some people like this, though either way I'd probably still publish it here and continue writing it nonetheless.

Next chapter will be Floodkit again.


	7. Chapter 5

**Warriors: Seeds of the Forbidden: Hollow Forest**

_Chapter 5_

_-_

_Floodkit watched as the two toms, _Rowanwhisker and Elmfur, slowly begun to isolate themselves from all of the other cats. He watched as Willowkit's mother became shrouded in the shadows of her own mind. He watched the kits escape Nettlefang's gentle eyes, and he watched as they ran and hid in the elder's den to listen to Brokentooth's stories. He watched, but did not understand.

He later confronted Nettlefang about it. "There is something… strange happening in the clan. I don't understand. Isn't a clan supposed to bring cats together, not tear them apart?"

"Yes. But it is those who are nearest who hurt a cat the most. I wouldn't worry; the clan is simply in unrest due to all that has been going on. Give it a few more moons and everything should have been sorted out and repaired by then." She mewed, holding him in place to give him a through washing, which he tolerated only to please her.

It was not any kind of answer to his question, and he resolved to ask another cat. He even considered approaching Willowkit after catching a knowing look in her eyes as she stared with pity and guilty relief at her mother's state. She had obviously been aware of the odd relationship between her mother and the two toms for nearly the moon that he'd known her.

"The cats of this clan are too wrapped up in guarding their own secrets." He muttered, earning a snort from Nettlefang.

"Says the mysterious kit who arrived starved and alone needing five warriors _and_ an apprentice to best his fighting skills. If anything, _you,_ my Floodkit, are the one with the most secrets to guard."

Floodkit regretted the wince that he involuntarily gave upon hearing his name in her voice in the way that Nightingale had said it. A vague impression was just about all he could summon of the cat-who-wasn't-his-mother-but-was, and that impression still whispered in her hushed voice, called him 'her little Flood', and existed in his dreams as a shadowy, vaporous form that emanated warmth and lingering safety.

"But," Nettlefang forced out in an attempt to cover up her shame. "You are right. This clan _is_ too wrapped up in secrets. Sometimes secrets are all that there is." She turned away and stared at the moss, laying down upon it and shutting her eyes. "Sometimes we forget that we are one clan and not simply a mere gathering of individuals."

As soon as he determined that she was asleep, Floodkit left the den and followed the scent of the other kits until he reached what he assumed to be the elder's den. It smelled faintly of sickness, and that mingled with a stale, slightly bitter tinge of what he assumed to be old age and the emotions that accompanied it. Shrugging that away, he continued toward it until he heard the voice of an old tomcat, which was filled with such power he stopped and crouched in the shadow to listen to the tale Brokentooth appeared to be spinning at the whim of the kits.

"…now, this warrior, Blazeheart, saved our clan from that fire. She was very brave indeed, though a bit selfish and petty at times, and her strong heart was the trait that earned her warrior name."

"And what happened after Blazeheart spotted the fire? Where did ThunderClan go?" Brightkit asked eagerly.

"We swam across the river into RiverClan territory. They welcomed us, after spotting the fire in our Clan, and their medicine cat helped treat the wounds of our cats. The RiverClan medicine cat, in fact, was Blazeheart's downfall."

"Did he murder her?"

"The medicine cat was a she-cat. And, though she did not _kill_ Blazeheart, for all that counted she was her murderer in the end." Brokentooth's voice had grown louder and Floodkit noticed something akin to hate in the old tom's voice. He couldn't tell if it was directed at Blazeheart or the medicine cat.

"Is that why RiverClan doesn't have a medicine cat anymore?"

"Blazeheart's downfall was her love. And also, her hate. She was a spiteful cat at her worst, cruel, unforgiving. And she fell in such a love, it was so sweeping, so utterly wrong, it brought her into a rage that blinded her enough to kill her own clanmate. It was then we knew she truly had no heart. All that existed within her in the space where her love should have been was emptiness. Hollow. And so she was renamed Blazehollow, and made an exile from the clan."

"I don't see how the RiverClan medicine cat brought about her downfall." Willowkit mewed.

"That cat had _everything_ to do with the death of Blazeheart and the creation of Blazehollow! I told you there was a love that was so utterly wrong, StarClan themselves condemned it? They sent signs, dreams, fragments, _prophesies_, but we were so _blind_, so deafened by our pride, we ignored it and tried sticking the blame on innocents. And we didn't even have the courage or the strength to kill such a traitor." He spat.

"My kits! There you are!" called Morninglight. She rushed past Floodkit and he heard the protests of the kits from within the den as their mother dragged them away. Something about the story had shaken him, and he ached to learn more. Hesitating at the den's entrance, he finally gave in and crept inside.

"Brokentooth?"

"Back so soon?" The elder asked, having been expecting the others.

"I-I was wondering if you could tell me about the prophecy." Floodkit asked as the old tom's squinting eyes turned upon him. Brokentooth was a small cat whose body bent at all of the wrong angles, fur flaking off in patches and tightly matted in others. In one, shaking yawn, his jaw parted to reveal a tooth that was indeed missing half of its yellowed length and only a jagged edge remained where it had been chipped and wrenched apart.

"Prophecy? Ah, the one that foretold Blazehollow's betrayal… I no longer can recall it by the exact word. It was a terrible thing, and we made the worse mistake of not ending that kit before she even drew her first breath."

"Brokentooth," Floodkit started, searching his mind for anything to turn the subject, which was beginning to rankle the elder. "what's going on with Morninglight, Elmfur and Rowanwhisker?" he saw no harm in answering a few of his other questions.

"StarClan ought to banish them from their skies forever!" Brokentooth yowled. Instantly, Floodkit realized he had prodded the same nerve and riled the elder even further. "What is going on between them is wrong, it is an accursed thing, vile and unforgivable."

"W-why?" Floodkit asked before he could bite back his curiosity.

"The love of a cat toward a mate should extend to _one_ cat alone. Morninglight claims Rowanwhisker as the father in words, but Elmfur in her actions. And worse, Elmfur and Rowanwhisker are aware of her indecision, yet both of them encourage her."

"If there is no fighting between them to cause conflict within the clan, then why would that be a problem?"

"It isn't right."

"Why not? Is it in the Code?" Floodkit realized that his unfamiliarity with the Code might end up getting him into trouble.

"No! If the loyalty of a cat must extend to two mates, then why won't it extend also to two clans?"

"Oh. So you suspect that Morninglight might be betraying the clan?"

"No, it's her love that's the problem. And the love between the _others_…"

"What's wrong with them?" Floodkit couldn't tear himself away. He felt a desperate need to understand the cats of his new home, but all they did was confuse him further when he tried.

"What is love between mates if it will yield no kits? It is such a twisted thing, their love."

_Rowanwhisker and Elmfur? But…_ Floodkit thought, shocked. It struck him then that they _had_ been acting as if they were mates, sharing tongues every day, and as the other warriors had mentioned, sleeping beside the other each night.

"Is it possible that _all three_ are mates? Wouldn't that strengthen the bond between each other as warriors and make them even more adept at defending the clan?"

It had been entirely the wrong thing to say. Floodkit noticed the elder's eyes steel, feeling the tom's low growl reverberate through the air and tingle in his paws as Floodkit took an unsteady step backwards. He finally gave in to his fear as it overpowered the force of his interest and fled in a run.

"That is not love, it is an abomination!" screeched Brokentooth after him. "You, murderer, are an abomination as well. We will regret letting the fox join the clan, we will-"

"Brokentooth!" Nettlefang called. "Foxstar has said that Floodkit will face no prejudice from this clan." Slipping past Floodkit, she started off towards the elder's den, intending to protect her adopted kit, and Floodkit banished all sounds of the conversation with Brokentooth from his mind, disliking how it had felt like the clan cats had reopened their mistrust all over again. He believed that it was a justified mistrust, at least it was now, before he became a respected warrior whose loyalty no one would dare question, but it still stung.

Entering the nursery again, Floodkit immediately claimed a corner and pretended to be asleep, trying to avoid the questioning of the other kits.

"What did you do to make Brokentooth so angry?"

"Yeah, we've asked him silly questions before, but he's never responded like _that_."

"Brokentooth has simply put the opinions of the entire clan into words. Really, kit, did you believe that we would accept a murderer into our presence so readily, as if badgers and foxes were allowed free passage through our camp and given free rein to attack our queens and kits?" Morninglight mewed, her voice hushed. She seemed to fear being heard by any but the kits.

"But Floodkit's only a kit!" Mosskit said.

"And that's the only reason Foxstar is handling the matter how he is: he sees Floodkit as a potential asset against the other clans to be conformed into the shape of a ThunderClan warrior with all of his strength and his dislike focused on one prey. And that prey is to be any rival of this clan.

"But," she continued. "we warriors won't stand for this. Foxstar made a feeble attempt to make Floodkit feel welcome, to boost ThunderClan's appeal, but if one listens just close enough, one will hear our true mind._ Flood_ doesn't belong here. He is truly the fox among us cats."

Floodkit squeezed his eyes shut, acting as though he hadn't heard. He wondered how he could have been so blind. He felt Willowkit's eyes upon him and heard the slight gasp of breath she gave, as if she had meant to say something, and then he felt her turn away and leave him in an uneasy peace. Almost, she had taken enough pity on him to stand up to her mother.

"Floodkit, would you rather eat vole or sparrow? The fresh-kill pile is nearly as tall as highrock today!" Nettlefang called, slipping into the den with both prey secured between her teeth. She seemed to be making an extra effort to extend extra kindness toward him as if she was compensating for the unkindness he had experienced.

He deliberated whether his hunger was stronger than his need to appear to be asleep, and concluded that it wasn't worth satisfying the small pain in his side. He made no move to show Nettlefang that he had heard her, and the vole was passed instead to Morninglight.

* * *

"Willowkit! Play with us!" Brightkit whined, shaking Floodkit abruptly from his sleep. "We need to defeat WindClan before they defeat us!"

"No, not now."

"But, why?!" Wailed Brightkit. Floodkit wondered if she ever took the time to rest herself, for he certainly never saw her asleep.

"I'm busy. Don't distract me."

"You're not busy. You're not doing anything."

"I'm listening."

"Listening to what? Is it interesting?" Mewed Brightkit, all requests to play forgotten in her curiosity.

"N-nothing. Play with Wrenkit or Mosskit."

"But you never want to play with me, and Mosskit has decided that she's too old for play. Wrenkit doesn't listen to me anymore, and you're the only one-" She paused. "Floodkit! You've never played with me before." He winced, annoyed at himself for being unable to predict this.

"Play with me now?" She pleaded.

He provided her with no answer at all and did not feel guilty when her tail drooped and her head fell in disappointment. Instead, he concentrated on the sounds of the clan and attempted to determine what Willowkit had been so preoccupied with.

Nothing seemed outside of the ordinary. Sedgeberry was testing Larkpaw's knowledge of herbs, and some warriors were gossiping over a plump rabbit and enjoying the newleaf sun. Something caught his ear among their conversation, however.

"What is Foxstar thinking? Wasn't Spottednose's death enough?"

"But _he_ hasn't done anything else yet, much less lift a claw against another."

"He doesn't play like the others do. He just sits there, with those staring eyes, and lets Nettlefang dote after him like a young warrior after her mate. There's obviously something… off about him."

Morninglight was right. Floodkit shook his head to brush the pressing thoughts from his mind, and distracted himself with dreams of revenge against Prophet and Rose's group. He needed to remind himself of his purpose, he realized. If he forgot that then he would have nothing.

"Cats of ThunderClan! Listen to me!" A voice yowled, silencing the clan. "All cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the highrock. I have something to say."

Floodkit was confused, the voice was not that of either Dawnheart or Foxstar. He turned toward Nettlefang.

"Dustflower? Why would she have need to call a clan meeting?" Morninglight muttered, answering Floodkit's unspoken question.

"This isn't good. The clan is still not over Elmfur's withdrawal into depression or Rowanwhisker's patient attention with him. We can't have another rift in the clan while things are still uneasy with WindClan. They were nearly tearing out our throats at the last gathering as it is; Thistletail's death has unburied a deeper hatred."

"Whatever it is, we better go. Kits, behave yourselves." Morninglight said, exiting the den with Nettlefang at her side."

"Come on!" Brightkit whispered after they had left. "Flood, come with us!"

He complied, fighting an unsettling churning inside him as they dashed out of the den.

Cats were emerging in a steady stream from the surrounding underbrush and dens, whispering amongst themselves and pricking with worry and unease.

"There is a betrayer amongst us." Dustflower calmly stated. Her fur hung lank from her lithe body, mangy and filthy in prolonged stress.

"Who would think to betray us at a time like this? What is going to come of us, of this clan?" Dawnheart called, summoning a growl of approval among the cats. "We have been meeting like this far too often, with some danger at hand, or some matter to push us further apart. Is this going to be the _end_?"

"The end in the prophecy?" Brokentooth growled, limping into the clearing.

"_Two will be born to hate, one to love, and from their union will rise the seeds of the end_." Sedgeberry stated. "The prophecy tells us."

"Who is the betrayer? On what basis do you make such a claim?" Foxstar addressed Dustflower.

"She has been doing it for nearly a moon now. Sneaking in and out of our camp to enter their territory."

"WindClan? Has she been trading them information?" Nettlefang mewed sharply.

"No, by _StarClan_, we've been so _mousebrained_! It's not WindClan, it's… ShadowClan."

Protests rang out in the crisp air, no cat able to believe that they had been targeting the wrong enemy, that a life had been lost in a battle with those who weren't even responsible.

"That Thornstar, hiding in the shadows while we all squabble amongst ourselves, while _he_ is the true enemy."

"Dustflower, you must tell us, _who is the betrayer_?" Dawnheart called.

At Floodkit's side, Willowkit staggered back. Instantly, he noticed that she knew what Dustflower was speaking of. She knew and did not reveal the treachery to the clan. Her head swung back and forth, denying it. "Don't tell them. She doesn't deserve what they'll give her." Willowkit muttered.

"My own sister is the betrayer!"

Heads turned back, catching a golden tabby she-cat and snaring her under the gaze of many glittering eyes. Her face shone with innocence, amber eyes drawn open until white was revealed at their rims.

"Goldeneye." Spat Dustflower.

The sun-streaked pelt of the she-cat rippled as her powerful legs took her away. Fawnpaw skidded in front of her, barring her path.

"You shall not pass until you face your shame." The apprentice mewed.

"Goldeneye, who snuck out nearly every night to visit _him_. She loved him for the allure of the forbidden nature of their courtship at first, nothing more. I tried to get her to see the absurdity of it all, but she was _blind_. I coaxed her to struggle free from his grasp while she still had the willpower to do so, but she was deaf to that, too. And now, my _sister_, though I loathe to use such a term in relation to _her_, will see the result of her recklessness."

"Dustflower, I… I _trusted_ you. I thought you would understand." Goldeneye whispered. "Who I love is not something I am capable of changing."

"Then I had to bring about the change for you. Don't you see? I did this for you."

"No, you did it for _you_. My love was doing the clans no harm."

"Your loyalty was harmed. And your loyalty harms the entire clan"

"If I could prove to you, Dustflower, the cats of ThunderClan, that I could keep both my loyalty and my love, would you let me?" She mewed, bitter.

"That is impossible." Foxstar said.

"Not if I leave the clan. I'll join _them_. ShadowClan lost many warriors recently to a sickness from the carrionplace, they- they'll have to accept me."

"You'd leave your home and leave _me_, all for the love of a single tom?"

"Oakshade means my life to me. Without him I am nothing."

"Then leave! Go from me, never let me sight you on ThunderClan territory again." Dustflower tore her eyes away from Goldeneye and stared instead at Foxstar, addressing him. "Can I have your permission to exile the traitor from our clan? If Thornstar accepts her, then let her join them. If not, let her wander forever, alone and unwelcome anywhere in the forest."

"Very well." Foxstar dipped his head in response, silencing Dawnheart, who had opened her mouth in protest. "Goldeneye, you are no longer a ThunderClan warrior. We will not fight you until you pass the borders. If you should choose to return, you will be treated as any other enemy warrior and we will not hesitate to battle you. Farewell."

Goldeneye led a silent procession of one through a corridor of cats ringed with glares and the buzzing of rumors and hate-filled murmurs. The foggy consequences of her affair seemed to trail after her, and they were given a wide berth by the spectators of her banishment.

Willowkit was mute and she sat as still as stone to the side of Mosskit and Brightkit.

"Why her and not the others?" Floodkit asked to no cat in particular.

"Which others?" Nettlefang asked, appearing at his side. A rustle of fur told Floodkit that Willowkit had turned to stare at him.

"Morninglight, Elmfur and Rowanwhisker. Have you seen either of the latter two at the nursery since Thistletail was killed? They're always together, Rowanwhisker treating Elmfur like a mate, attending to him and soothing him through his withdrawal from the others. The clan doesn't know what to think of the love they share between them and extend to Morninglight as well. The clan doesn't allow them to participate in normal activities, like visiting their own kits, as long as they openly reveal their love."

"How does that relate to Goldeneye?"

"She was able to keep her love. It was far more damaging to the clan and it lost us a warrior, but it was still allowed. Morninglight and the two toms aren't given that."

"You notice more than the others, Floodkit."

He nearly told her that Willowkit noticed even more, but he realized that such a thing was something the kit would want to keep to herself. Instead, he only responded with an ambiguous mumble and stared after the retreating form of Goldeneye.

* * *

**Note:** No one died this chapter. Otherwise, I guess not much has really been happening to the characters directly yet, but they're not going to be kits for much longer.

Writing about a polygamous relationship is certainly an interesting experience.

And forgive me, but the next chapter is going to be a little late. I had a homework assignment that needed to get done, and I am unable to complete chapter 6 by Sunday.


End file.
